


The Best College Parties are the Ones that You Leave Early

by MariMoon812



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkwardness, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, aziraphale is literal sunshine incarnate, crowley is a gay disaster and you can't change my mind, drunk idiots meeting for the first time at a college party, this is all fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariMoon812/pseuds/MariMoon812
Summary: For a moment they just started at each other as Crowley’s spinning head tried to comprehend what, exactly, was happening. Was this one of the professors? No, he clearly wasn’t that old, but then why was he dressed like that? Was it a hipster thing? Did the guy also have an antique typewritter that he used to write history papers? What? Why was he just staring at him?Just as Crowley was beginning to short circuit, the boy squinted at him and leaned forward slightly.“Erm…”“Why are you wearing sunglasses?”“Huh?”





	The Best College Parties are the Ones that You Leave Early

The moment that Anthony J. Crowley had stepped on the University campus yesterday was the moment that high school became a distant memory. Four years of confusion, hormones, and embarrassing amounts of eyeliner could finally be wrapped up in a little box and shoved into the very distant back of his mind to gather dust as if locked in an attic. He was ready this time. He had finally settled on a hairstyle that he wouldn’t change again in a month or two, and had figured out the perfect ratio of dark clothing that he could wear to look “cool” without going so far as to turn him into a My Chemical Romance, “Welcome to the Black Parade”, reject. He reserved the eyeliner now for special occassions only.

Yes, University was going to be great. He absolutely wasn’t going to have trouble at all with making friends, (even if his roommate, Hastur, seemed kind of like a dick so far. It’s fine, there were plenty of other people), and overall everything was just going to go smoothly. It had to, after all, because of the four years of Hell he had just endured. Surely the universe would even things out for him now in some kind of cosmic balancing of the karmic scales. It was all going to be great.

Or at least, that’s what he had thought. Right now he was already three sheets to the wind with a solo cup of red wine in his hand and was starting to have trouble thinking much of anything really. His palms were starting to sweat. Was it hot in there?

It definitely was, as he was standing in the corner of a dim dorminitory lounge that was packed with college students and not a single cracked window, but that didn’t explain the way that his heart was starting to beat faster. Crowley’s head was beginning to spin as he gazed out at the noisy crowd, his confidence shrinking by the minute. Hastur had disappeared the moment that they arrived to the opening weekend party together which had left Crowley alone and suddenly very nervous. Despite his efforts to appear otherwise, just walking up to someone and starting a conversation with them was really not one of his strengths. He took another drink of the cheap wine and felt a wave of nausea roll through him, though whether it was from the nerves or the alcohol he wasn’t sure.

Crowley sighed. Maybe he should just head back to his room upstairs and wait until classes started to meet people. He wasn’t sure that he would actually be able to sleep though, what with the party raging just a few floors below him, but maybe if he drank a little more then he would be drunk enough to just pass out on his bed when he got there. He was already probably going to be hungover in the morning anyway, why stop now?

Decision made and disappointment creeping up his veins, Crowley turned to head back towards the refreshment tables to fill his cup again before going back to his room. He walked slowly, trying not to stumble too much, but the room was spinning and dark and loud and overall incredibly disorienting. He had only made it a couple feet before he felt himself crash in to someone who had been walking briskly in the other direction and Crowley nearly fell forward, a dark splash of wine sloshing out of his cup.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled just as a pair of hands gripped his arms to keep him steady. Crowley took a step back and blinked to see a pale, light-haired boy that was dressed like a ninety year old man staring up at him with wide eyes. 

For a moment they just started at each other as Crowley’s spinning head tried to comprehend what, exactly, was happening. Was this one of the professors? No, he clearly wasn’t that old, but then why was he dressed like that? Was it a hipster thing? Did the guy also have an antique typewriter that he used to write history papers? What? Why was he just staring at him?

Just as Crowley was beginning to short circuit, the boy squinted at him and leaned forward slightly.

“Erm…”

“Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

“Huh?”

Hipster boy continued to stare intently at him, hardly blinking. “It’s dark in here, it’s nighttime. You don’t need sunglass do you?” He suddenly flushed. “Oh wait, are you blind maybe? I’m so sorry that was terribly rude of me, this is the first time I’ve actually gotten drunk I, I’m not sure that I’m thinking straight right now… And you did walk right into me… Oh jeez, I apologize I-,”

“No I uh… I can see.” Crowley interjected quietly, dazed and struggling to keep up.

“Oh.” The boy frowned. “So why the sunglasses then?”

Crowley could feel the back of his neck start to heat up. “They uh… they look cool.”

The boy stared at him for a moment, and then a wide grin broke across his face. He reached out, starting to giggle, and clumsily pulled the dark glasses off of Crowley’s face before leaning forward to shove them into the pocket of his leather jacket. Crowley went still, stunned by the radiance of the boy’s smile, and suddenly felt like he was just going to pass out then and there.

“That’s better.” He giggled and, now that the room wasn’t so dark, Crowley could see that his pale cheeks were flushed red and that his pupils were wide, his light hair messy in a way that didn’t quite seem intentional. Crowley didn’t know what the stranger looked like normally but it was then that he realized that the boy was probably just about as wasted as he was. 

“T-thanks.” He stammered, unsure of how to react. It was then that he noticed a dark stain on the upper arm of the boy’s pale coat, likely from the wine that he had just spilled, and without thinking he reached out to tap it. “Oh uh, I think I spilled a little on you.”

“Hmm?” The boy turned his head to where Crowley’s fingers were pressed against his arm and his expression changed in an instant. His smile vanished and eyes dimmed, a look of extreme sadness passing over his features. “This is my favorite coat.” He whispered in a voice tinged with horror.

Had he been sober, Crowley likely would have felt guilty. But there was something about the boy’s reaction, about the way that he had gone from giggling like a little kid to looking like someone had just shot a puppy in front of him, all for the sake of what looked like an old thrift store coat, that caused Crowley to start laughing instead. 

“I’ve had this coat for years!” The boy said indignantly, clearly shocked by Crowley’s reaction. “And now I’ll never get this stain out.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Crowley struggled to say, still laughing. The other glared at him, clearly unconvinced. “Really I mean it. Do you…do you live in this dorm?”

“No,” he frowned. “I live across campus in…” He frowned harder. “I live in… Oh dear, I can’t seem to remember the name of my dorm. Does alcohol always make you this bad at thinking?”

“Yeah, usually.” Crowley grinned. “Come on, follow me. I’ll help you.” He turned and tried to take a step but nearly crashed to the floor.

“Honestly,” The boy huffed, reaching out to take Crowley’s hand in his own. “Are you sure you’re fit enough to be walking around.”

“Fit as a fiddle.” Crowley insisted, heat creeping up his arm from where their fingers intertwined. “Follow me.” he pulled slightly and the two stumbled their way out of the crowded lounge.

The hallway outside that connected the lounge to the rooms was incredibly bright, fluorescent lighting on white linoleum floors, and they paused for a moment to blink and rub at their eyes. “See, this is why I need sunglasses.” Crowley mumbled, voice still slurring slightly.

“Oh just give it a minute. Besides, you have nice eyes. You shouldn’t cover them up.”

“O-okay.” Crowley swallowed, throat feeling dry. The boy sounded perfectly articulate when he spoke but it was clear that the alcohol had removed his filter. Or maybe he always just said things like that. With a smile as bright as his he probably had a perfectly angelic personality to go with it. Or something. “Come on then,” He gave the boy’s hand another soft tug and hoped that the other didn’t notice how sweaty his palm was. “This way I think.”

“And where are we going exactly?”

“Laundry room.” Crowley squinted at the hallway, trying desperately to remember the tour from yesterday. “I think we have to go down a floor.”

“Oh.” A small smile touched the boy’s face. “Well then, hold on tight. I can’t have you falling down the stairs before you fix my coat.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. He really wasn’t that far gone, but the boy’s fingers were tightening around his own and honestly it would be more effort to pull his hand away so he didn’t argue. Simpler for everyone that way, really. 

Once they found their way to the stairwell they slowly walked down to the basement level. The noise from the party upstairs became a distant hum and Crowley was suddenly acutely aware of how hard his heart was beating. Nobody could hear that, right?

The other boy sighed happily. “Ah, its quiet down here. I’m not really a party person, to be perfectly honest.”

“No? Me either.”

“Really?” He looked surprised.

“Does that surprise you?” Crowley raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Well, yes I suppose it does. You just seem so…”

“Cool? Popular? Extraordinarily handsome?” 

“Sure. All of the above.” The boy smirked and Crowley gave a soft laugh.

“Right before I walked into you, I had been standing in the corner drinking alone. So no, I can’t really say that that is my ideal Saturday night. And other parties I’ve been too?” Crowley thought back to all of the awkward high school gatherings that had been held in people’s basements when their parents weren’t there, to all of the idiot sixteen year olds getting drunk on vodka for the first time and spending the rest of the night puking in the bathroom. “They were always too loud and…messy.”

“Mmm.” The boy hummed understandingly beside him. “So then, what is your ideal Saturday night?”

“Oh,” Crowley blinked, suddenly embarrassed. It had been a long time since anyone had asked him a question like that. “Well uh, I like to watch old movies. And listen to music. I also…play piano.”

“You do?” The boy’s face lit up, his head turning slightly to grin directly at Crowley, making the taller boy feel as if he needed to put his sunglasses back on yet again. “That’s amazing!”

“N-no, not really,” Crowley looked away, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “It’s just a hobby, I’m really not all that good…”

“Nonsense. I’ve always wished that I had learned to play an instrument…” The boy trailed off with a wistful sigh.

“You know,” Crowley looked back at him, his voice quiet. “It’s never too late to start learning.”

“Yeah?” The other met his glance and the smile that touched his face was incredibly soft. “Yes, I guess you’re right.”

Crowley swallowed, his head starting to spin once again. The air between them seemed suddenly thick, the quiet of the basement deafening, and then the laundry room finally appeared in the brightness.

“Ah, here we go.” Crowley let go of the boy’s hand and opened the door to let them inside, flipping on the light switch to reveal a small space stocked with washing machines and dryers. “Let’s see if anyone left any…” He started rummaging quickly through the various drawers and shelves, swaying slightly, until he came across a small bottle of stain remover. “Found it!” Crowley grinned and held it up to show the other. “Can I hear a ‘wahoo’?”

The boy started giggling immediately. “You sound like you’re from the seventies.”

“Oh? And look who’s talking.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“The way you’re dressed,” Crowley gestured to the boy. “You look like you’re from the _eighteen_ seventies. Are you sure that you’re a university student?”

“Quite sure,” The boy matched his grin, not seeming offended in the slightest. “It’s not my fault that the rest of you have no sense of style.”

“No sense of style?” Crowley gestured to himself in mock horror. “I’ll have you know that I’ve spent years perfecting this look.”

The boy giggled harder. “Okay, fine. Everyone else has no sense of style, _except_ for both of us.”

“That’s better.” Crowley sniffed. He then tried to imagine the other wearing a pair of joggers and a Nike T-shirt and started laughing again. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing. I like your clothes actually, they suit you.”

“Oh,” The boy smiled, a surprised look passing over his face. “Thank you. And here I thought you spilling wine on my coat was a subtle attempt to get me to change.”

"The coat. Right.” Crowley smirked and reached out a hand. “Hand it over then, let’s see what we can do.”

The boy shrugged off his coat, showing off the light blue button up shirt and pale waistcoat he was wearing underneath, and gave it to Crowley with a reluctant expression on his face, as if he was handing a delicate glass sculpture to a toddler. Finally beginning to feel slightly more sober and in better control of his motor functions, Crowley quickly unscrewed the cap of the stain remover and dabbed some on the wine spot before throwing it into the washing machine with a little detergent.

“See? It’ll be as good as new.”

“If you say so.” The boy sighed, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and sinking slowly to the floor so that he was sitting with his back against one of the dryers. Crowley hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next. It didn’t seem right to abandon the other now, not until he was sure that the stain remover had worked, and he had no desire to return to either the party or to his room. He felt slightly guilty though, unsure if the other boy would actually want him to hang around any longer.

As if noticing his internal turmoil, the boy met his gaze and gave the spot beside him a gentle pat.

Crowley felt his face redden and hoped that the other didn’t notice as he shrugged off his own leather jacket, it was very warm and stuffy in the tiny laundry room after all, and set it to the side before sitting down as well. He felt very tired all of a sudden as he leaned back against the dryer, close enough to the other so that their thighs slightly touched, and for a moment they sat in a comfortable silence as the sound of the party above and the whirring of the washing machine echoed around them.

“So,” Crowley started a few minutes later. “What about you then? What’s your ideal Saturday night?”

“Hmmm…” The boy’s voice sounded dreamy and dazed, as if he were just moments away from falling asleep. “It would have to start with a really good dinner.”

Crowley snorted, the answer unexpected. “Oh? And what then?”

“An even better dessert.” He grinned and Crowley giggled, it being the perfect time of night and him being just tipsy enough for everything to be hilarious.

“Dinner and dessert huh? Are you some kind of foodie, then?”

“Oh yes. You should see my instagram.” The boy nodded enthusiastically and Crowley laughed again. “After that though… well I like quiet nights where I can read books.”

Crowley hummed. “What kind of books?”

“Oh, all kinds. That’s what I’m studying actually, English and literature. I think I’d like to own a bookshop of my own one day.”

Crowley smiled. He could just imagine it; the boy in his waistcoat and tan trousers, standing in a cluttered little shop surrounded by books. “That sounds nice.”

“And what about you? What are you studying?”

“Oh,” Crowley smirked. “I bet you can’t guess.”

The boy sat up. “No? Well let’s see… You dress like a bad boy from the 80s, what with the leather jackets and the sunglasses and all, but you said you play piano so you clearly have a soft side… Music? No wait, you said that the piano was just a hobby. Oh, I don’t know, history?”

“Nope.” Crowley grinned.

“Journalism? French? Physics?”

“Botany.”

“Really?” The boy’s eyebrows raised. “You’re right I wouldn’t have guessed it. Why botany?”

“I like plants.” Crowley felt relaxed, eyes threatening to fall shut. “I always have. I think… I think that one day I’d like to have my own nursery, or maybe a flower shop or something.”

The boy smiled softly at him. “I think that that sounds wonderful.” He leaned back again against the dryer, both of them slumping now so that their shoulders touched, and his voice also began to take on a distant quality. “Flowers are nice…”

In the quiet warmth of the laundry room, they both drifted off as they leaned against one another. For several minutes they breathed softly, teetering on the edge of sleep, until the washing machine sent them both scrambling to their feet with a loud buzz. They looked at each other and blushed as they realized just how close they had been sitting a moment before, but Crowley quickly cleared his throat and went to pull the coat out of the machine. To his vast relief, the stain was completely gone.

“See? What did I tell you?”

The boy grinned, his smile nearly blinding in its radiance. “Oh, wonderful. I really do like that coat.”

“Let’s put it in the dryer then.” Crowley smiled back, warmth creeping through him. 

Once the dryer had been started, they both moved back to the floor and this time laid down on their backs with faces turned to the white ceiling above. For the next hour, they spoke in quiet voices about books and plants and any other topic that came to mind. When the dryer finally beeped, neither of them moved.

“I’m hungry.” The boy stated, turning his head to look at Crowley.

“I think I saw that they had pizza upstairs.” Crowley turned his head as well and held back a laugh when he saw the expression on the boy’s face at that. Really, he was very good at pouting. “Was there something else you wanted, then?”

“Hmmm… Oh!” His face lit up. “How about crepes?”

“Crepes?” Crowley pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Yes.” The boy grinned. “I believe I saw that there is a place near campus that’s open until two on the weekends.”

“Really?” Crowley did a quick google search, and then pulled up maps. “You’re right. Looks like its about a twenty minute walk away.” The boy stared at him with wide eyes for a few moments and he chuckled. “Would you like to go, then?”

The boy sat up so quickly that it made Crowley’s head spin. “Yes, please. Let me just make sure that my coat’s dry now.”

Crowley sat up slowly with a soft laugh, his head starting to pound a bit. He would definitely be hungover in the morning but for now there was an amusement and a warmth seeping through him as he watched the boy pull his coat from the dryer, his eyes shining with excitement. 

Yes, He thought. University was going to be better.

Once they were ready, they made their way out of the laundry room and back up to the ground floor where the party was still going in full swing. Weaving their way back through the crowd to the front doors of the dorm, they paused as they took in the sight of the rain pouring hard just outside. 

Digging into the inner pocket of his jacket, Crowley pulled out his little fold-up, black umbrella. He glanced over at the other boy and raised an eyebrow.

“No umbrella?”

The boy flushed. “I have one actually, or at least, _had_ one… I uh… I gave it away.”

“You what?”

“I said I gave it away. This morning, actually. There was a girl trying to carry a stack of books to her room and well, you know how I feel about books, and I… well I felt bad that she was going to get wet too of course, so I uh. I gave it to her.”

Crowley couldn’t help but break into a wide grin, this person was truly unlike anyone he had ever met before. “You can share mine then.”

“Really?” The boy glanced up at him with a soft, hopeful expression.

“Of course. We just waited an hour for that coat of yours to dry after all, no sense in letting it get wet again now.”

“Right. Okay then, thank you.” The boy smiled and Crowley quickly turned his head so that the other wouldn’t see the blush that he could feel spreading across his cheeks. Stepping outside, he opened the umbrella and held it up so that it covered both of them, the top small enough that they had to walk with their shoulders pressed against each other.

In the cool darkness of the night, wrapped in the gentle sounds of the rain, they slowly made their way off campus. They spoke in soft voices and giggled when one of them stumbled, the effects of the alcohol still strong enough to touch them with a dizzying warmth, and Crowley watched in amusement as the other insisted on taking pictures of their crepes before eating them. By the time they were ready to return, the rain had stopped and at some point on the road they had split off, the boy’s dorm being in a different direction. The goodbye had been sleepy and unsure, hesitant smiles and a distance that neither of them had been brave enough to cross and then the next thing that Crowley remembered was stumbling his way up to his dorm room and collapsing on his bed. He had fallen asleep with a smile on his face and a warmth in his chest, his dreams filled with soft laughs and gentle smiles.

Crowley slept well into the afternoon of the next day, and when he woke up he was feeling groggy with the pounding headache that he had predicted. It was not until then, as he rummaged through his boxes of dorm necessities he had yet to unpack, searching desperately for his coffee maker, that he realized he had never asked for the boy’s name.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to just be a one shot but i'm very tempted to turn this into a 50k slow burn mess so we'll see... 
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


End file.
